


Care

by NovemberMurray



Series: A Good Turn [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Between Season Interlude, But this is the Friends to Co-Parents part, Enemies to Friends to Co-Parents to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Found Family, Good Parent Din Djarin, Healing, Jetpacks are dangerous, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29725560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovemberMurray/pseuds/NovemberMurray
Summary: Corin can't believe his good luck. After escaping certain death on Nevarro the Mandalorian has invited him along in his quest to find a teacher for the child. But it is going to be a long and difficult search.... if Corin doesn't get himself fired on his first day.A little between season interlude for my Mandalorian-Re-write-With-Corin.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/Din Djarin
Series: A Good Turn [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138601
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Care

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Time To Say Goodbye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136529) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 
  * Inspired by [Rescue and Regret](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648874) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> This chapter begins directly after the epilogue of Defiance.

Corin had shifted to doing pull ups from the bulkhead when he heard the Mandalorian come out of the fresher. The child was clinging to his boot, going for a ride and chortling happily.

“He’s never going to let you exercise in peace now that you’ve let him do it once,” the Mandalorian warned. Corin finished the rep and slowly lowered himself to the floor so as not to dislodge his passenger. He shook out his hands, smiling at the little creature.

“I don’t mind. He’s not very heavy. I was about to make us some brea—” Corin trailed off as he turned around, his jaw falling slack and open. 

The Mandalorian’s torso was stripped down to just the rough shirt he wore under his flack jacket, leaving the shape of his shoulders and outline of his chest visible through the thick fabric. He was still wearing the greeves, vambraces, and armored gloves, but without the pauldrons and chest-plate he looked smaller and more human. Even though every inch of his skin was still covered but Corin could imagine if he put his hand on the Mandalorian’s chest he would feel the flesh and blood heartbeat under his palm. It made his fingers itch with an unidentifiable desire. 

The Mandalorian held the removed dura-weave jacket and beskar plates, inspecting them, with the heavy cloak thrown over one shoulder. He looked up and cocked the helmet to one side questioningly. Corin realized he had been quiet for too long and he was staring.

“Sorry. I— I didn’t know if you ever, um, took it off.” He said dumbly. _Of course he has to take it off!_ He cursed himself in his own head for sounding so stupid, for getting distracted by the barest hint of humanity and gawking like a fool.

“It took some damage. I need to do repairs,” the Mandalorian explained, looking down at the blackened chestplate. “And clean it.”

Corin had to swallow and turn away, trying not to think about why the armor needed the extra attention. It reminded him too vividly of the smell of blaster fire, a loose leather gloved grip in his hand, and a warm piece of beskar pressed into his palm. Corin bent down to pick up the child and shook off that line of recollection. 

“What does the kid like to eat?” He asked instead, changing the subject. “I didn’t want to feed him anything I shouldn’t.”

“He eats anything, as far as I can tell,” the Mandalorian replied, moving to sit down in the cargo bay on a crate and pulling out a series of tools, rags and canisters. “Any of the rations should be fine.”

Corin opened the locker under the food processor and whistled at the shiny packages he pulled out. They were the expensive kind that actually tasted like food, and the cabinet was much better stocked than the last time he had been on the Crest. 

“I guess you found a job that actually paid,” he said, a bit self-deprecating. 

The Mandalorian grunted and his shoulders tensed. 

“Not a pleasant job then,” Corin interpreted.

“Let's just say they won’t be repeat customers.” There was a hard note in the Mandalorian’s voice which reminded Corin, no matter how moral and heroic, the Mandalorian was a bounty hunter who captured and killed people for money.

Corin let the man work while he heated up two meals for himself and the child. He let the kid choose which flavor he wanted and helped the little guy spoon the thick sauce and chunks of unidentifiable meat into his mouth. It was legitimately astonishing how much the creature could eat. Looking at the empty bowl he asked:

“Does he ever grow?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” The Mandalorian hit something on the circuitry of the chest-plate that set off a shower of sparks. 

“Must have a high metabolism I guess. Maybe it has to do with his powers.”

Corin ate his meal sitting beside the child, while they both watched the Mandalorian working on his armor. Corin's eyes drifted out of focus after a minute, lost in his thoughts, trying to remember how he had wound up back on this ship. It seemed like too much good luck to hope for. He wondered how long it would last. How long until he made a mistake? How long till he proved how useless and unreliable he was? How long until the Mandalorian realized he was a magnet for danger and death?

“We’ll arrive at Eurus 2 in a few hours. I have a contact near the space port and it's a good place to resupply. You’re welcome to use the fresher before we get there.”

“A shower would be great,” Corin admitted, running a hand through his sweat stiff hair. He hadn’t intended to go through his entire morning workout routine, but once he got started it seemed wrong to stop. To his shame it felt like ages since he was well enough to do even that much. Between the first concussion the Mandalorian gave him, Tattooine, Seorus, getting captured, and his imprisonment; it had been... a week?... longer? It was hard to say. He put the bowls in the automatic cleaner and cleared away the ration packages, before heading to the fresher. 

“Take your time,” the Mandalorian told him. “Fresh water is cheap on Eurus because of the glaciers.”

Corin turned with an irresistible smile spreading across his face. “Glaciers?”

The Mandalorian raised his helmet and then slowly nodded. “They cover most of the planet. The space port is built right on top of a big one.”

Corin just grinned wider and hurried into the fresher with new excitement.

—

Eurus was a white frosty beauty of a planet, nearly covered in ice with a thin band of more habitable climate at the equator. The spaceport the Mandalorian aimed for was on the north edge of that fertile zone in a continent-spanning range of sharp mountains where massive glaciers filled the valleys. Landing pads hovered over the ice, and speeder traffic buzzed around the repair docks. Corin watched it all from the _Razor Crest’s_ cockpit with rapt attention, craning his head to see more of the landscape past the Mandalorian’s helmet.

When the landing ramp came down there were flurries of snow falling outside. Corin was just about leaping for joy. He took a deep breath through his nose of the crisp mountain air, feeling the cold burn in his lungs. He shivered half with joy and half with the chill. It bit into him through the blanket the Mandalorian had given to him for a poncho and the thin, baggy gray Imperial prisoner uniform. 

“First thing,” the Mandalorian said to Corin as they disembarked, “go buy yourself some new clothes and a good jacket; gloves, shoes, all of it. I don’t know where we’ll be headed after this, so be prepared for anything.” He put a reasonable stack of credit chips in Corin’s hand. “Then get us a room at the inn in town.”

“The cold really doesn’t bother me that much. Let me help you—”

“No.” The Mandalorian shook his head. “You’re no good to me or the kid if you’re laid up sick from exposure. Proper kit first.”

Corin frowned and prepared to argue.

“If you want to be a help,” the Mandalorian relented, “take the womp rat with you. Keep him out of trouble.”

“You’d trust me with that?” Corin asked, taking the little creature gingerly. The child was already busy catching snowflakes as they flurried around and shoving them in his mouth. 

“I did before,” the Mandalorian said with a tilt of his helmet and twitch of his pauldron like a half shrug. “Don’t let him eat anything strange. And you," the visor tipped down to look at the child, "don't pull any stunts.” The child made a bashful cooing noise and the helmet tipped in a way that said ' _I'm not buying this innocence act'._ “I’ll meet you at the Inn this evening.”

With that the armored man walked away. The child in Corin’s arms fell silent, watching his guardian leave with large, brown eyes and a little frown. Corin was struck, as he had been many times, by how intelligent the nonverbal creature’s gaze was. The little wrinkled face turned up to him as the Mandalorian disappeared from view, like he was asking: _where did he go? Why?_

“He’ll be back. Till then, will this be ok?” Corin asked the child. “You can spend the day with me. We’ll find some fun while...while the Mandalorian does his work.” Corin stumbled over the title. The name, _Din Djarin,_ leapt to his mind but it seemed wrong to use it. The Mandalorian hadn’t given it to him, Gideon had. He felt wrong even knowing it. It was safer to stick with titles.

“Uwah?” The child tilted his head, little face scrunched with hesitance and confusion.

“Yeah,” Corin said, forcing himself to smile at the kid, “we’ll have fun. Lots of fun to be had in the snow.” He set off with the little creature in tow toward the transport deck.

—

There was a rail train between the port at the top of the glacier and the town in the fertile valley further down the mountain. The train let off just beside the frozen river that ran down from the glacier. Crossing the bridge over the frozen water into town, Corin caught sight of a small family, two adults and two younger children, gliding across the ice near the far bank. He couldn’t help grinning and biting his lip in jealousy. It had been ages since he had gone skating. A coo drew his attention down to the child who was watching the same scene from his arms with rapt attention. The closed-off expression of mild concern the child had worn the whole train ride was being dissolved by his curiosity.

“Now _that,_ ” Corin said, hoisting the little creature a little higher, “looks like fun. Maybe we can borrow some skates from someone. Would you like that?” 

The child cooed a little louder with excitement, whether he understood Corin’s words or not.

The shopping was easy enough to take care of. Corin wasn’t too particular about what he wore, and he was immensely grateful to get out of the imperial prison clothing. Even though he had washed all his clothes on the _Razor Crest,_ they still felt gritty and grimy, like Navarro was baked into the fabric. The sooner Corin could put that terrible planet behind him, he reasoned, the better. The only good things that had ever happened on Navarro were Moff Gideon’s TIE fighter crashing in a deadly fireball and the Mandalorian offering Corin a job. 

Easily enough he found the inn, which was not much more than a series of cabins, and the tavern, which was right next door. They were run by a pair of elderly sisters, both widows. Each took one look at Corin and the child in his arms before welcoming him like an old friend. (“Tell my stingy sister over there to give you the good berries—no canned substitutes.” “Tell my miserly sisters over there to give you the nice room with the new mattresses.”). Corin reserved the room they needed (“two beds, yes—Oh, a crib would—yes, thank you”) and got a meal for the kid. Even after eating a whole ration pack that morning, the child scarfed down a bowl of thick porridge sweetened with berry compote. The quiet and reserved demeanor the kid had adopted was momentarily broken by his enthusiasm for chasing every bit of berry out of the bowl. To Corin’s great excitement, the innkeeper was happy to lend Corin her skates (“These old hips can’t take the strain anymore. Take the little one to have some fun.”) 

So Corin took the child across town to the river. He strapped the skates to his boots and made a sling for the child out of the blanket he had been using as a poncho. The snow was coming down harder now and the sun was dropping towards the mountain peaks as the winter evening closed in early. The temperature was dropping quickly but there was still light enough and time for a few laps up and down the open river bend. 

Corin stood on the skates tentatively, testing the straps were firm and his ankles didn’t give out. He felt off balance for a moment, but in a distantly familiar way. 

“You ready?” He asked the child bundled against his chest. The little head turned up to him, with brown eyes wide and little three fingered hands tugging the edge of the sling excitedly. “Here we go!” Corin pushed his weight forward on one skate and laughed aloud at the sensation of gliding. His next stroke was more confident, and the next more assured again. His body remembered a dance his mind could barely recall. Soon he was easily speeding along down towards the bridge. 

The child laughed and chittered his cooing sounds as the chilly wind raced into his face, large ears flapping against Corin’s chest. The sound was like a balm to Corin’s heart after the tension of the previous day. After so much fire and death, being able to give this little child something joyful made him feel less undeserving of his improbable survival. If this was all he could do for the child, he would do it and be glad.

Corin turned around before the bridge and headed back across the icy river’s edge, back the way he had come. Back and forth, back and forth, until his legs were burning with the exertion. He skidded to a stop near the flat area of the bank they had entered from and caught his breath. 

Across his chest the child laughed and pumped his small arms up and down. When Corin didn’t move the little face turned up with annoyance.

“What?” Corin asked, rubbing his new gloves across his face to get a little warmth back into his cheeks. “Not done yet?” He looked at the purple twilight sky between the dark ridges of the mountains. “It’s getting pretty late. The Mandalorian will probably be looking for us soon.”

“Uwaah!” The child all but snapped.

Corin laughed. 

“Ok,” he relented. “One more.”

The little hands pumped the air excitedly. The child made demanding coos over and over as Corin took off toward the bridge again.

“Faster?” He asked, pushing a little harder with his next stroke, and the child squealed delight. He spun around, skating backwards for a short ways before coming to a stop. “OK,” he said, “you asked for it.” He crouched low and set his skates before taking off.

The start was always a slog, often unused muscles cried out at the strain and his feet were definitely going to be sore, but as the frozen vegetation along the riverside sped past and the momentum caught up with him, it was all worth it for the speed and the rush of cold air in his face. The child giggled infectiously with delight, bringing Corin to laugh along with him so hard he could barely steer them. He leaned back, letting them slow down gradually as his shoulders shook with laughter like he hadn’t released in… he couldn’t say how long… years. 

The child gave a burbling cry and pumped his little hands with purpose. 

A strong push hit Coin’s back shoving him forward. The air was choked suddenly in his chest as he gasped. He spun around to see what had pushed him, skittering backward and spreading his legs to get his balance. There was no one behind him and the shove had felt like no hands or object, just like wind or… _Force!_

The child cried again, laughing with delight, and pumped his little fists once more.

Corin scrambled to grab the kid.

“No!” He cried, but too late. The Force hit his back again but this time sent him spinning on the skates and careening out towards the center of the lake. Deep cracking sounds just barely reached Corin over the sound of his own desperate breathing and the skittering of metal on ice. He cussed as he lost his balance and dropped to his knees, feeling the ice give with a sharp crack sound.

 _Bad!_ He thought. _We’re too far out. The ice is too thin here. The child!_ He pulled the kid out of the sling and shoved the small creature away from him across the frozen river, just a moment before he felt the solid surface go out beneath him completely. The last thing he saw before water closed over his head was the child, rolling and skittering back towards the shore. 

The cold hit him like a vice grip and a fire all at once. Even knowing to resist he couldn’t stop his body from trying to gasp, and sucking water down into his lungs.

 _I need to Breath! Need to Breath! Breath!_ He panicked instinctually. The cold was burning through him, his clothing was like a weight suit, the current ripping at him, turning him around in his delirious panic, the skates like blocks of duracrete around his feet pulling him down, down away from air, down in the sharp stinging cold, down into darkness, down…

The water was rushing over him, tugging at him so hard like it was tearing him apart. Something pressed against his back as he spasmed, trying to get the water out of his mouth. Then the hard object cracked and gave way. He was rising up, breaking through the surface of the water.

He gasped — gasped a blessed, chest stabbing lungful of air, right before he started coughing and puking up seemingly endless amounts of water. Then he was gasping again before the coughing took over once more. He felt his knees land on something solid and blinked his eyes enough to see the child standing on the ice a few feet from him, little hands raised up and face scrunched in deep concentration. The hold around Corin’s middle that had raised him from the water released, and he collapsed onto his side on the ice, heaving great gulps of cold air. 

The child made a soft, tired coo, and slumped over as well.

“Oh,” Corin groaned hoarsely when he had breath to speak. “I think your Mandalorian is gonna fire me on my first day.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are the sustenance by which I maintain my undead existence.
> 
> I'll try to have the next chapter ready by next Friday but I've been working on my submissions for Mandomera Week so I might be a day or so late. On the plus side: if you're a Mandomera fan you can check those out starting Monday!
> 
> You can follow my random stuff on tumbler: [@novembermurray](https://novembermurray.tumblr.com/)


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